


Past Prologue Retold: Jul Bakir, The Spy

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal, But Not That Much Spy Work, Cardassian flirting, Cardassian!Julian, Dangerous Flirting, Garak is still a 'tailor', Julian is a spy, Kira Has a Way Too Small Role Here, Knifeplay, Later Chapters Will Contain Explicit Sexual Content, Light Spanking, M/M, Spy work, brief mention of surgery, handjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Julian Bashir works as a spy for a Bajoran organization and needs to infiltrate an Obsidian agent, Elim Garak, who lives on the newly Federation-ized Deep Space Nine station where he poses as a local tailor.Julian therefore undergoes the necessary procedures to appear Cardassian in order to get close to the 'tailor'.But what if he got too close?
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s Jul Bakir, isn’t it? Of course it is — may I introduce myself?” 

The man turned his head up to look Garak in the eye, caught off guard. He obviously hadn’t expected anyone to talk to him while sitting by himself in the Replimat. “Yes?” 

Garak gestured at the empty chair, claiming it with his hand. “I’m Garak. I thought I was the only one of our kind left on the station. Would you mind some company?” 

Jul still seemed stunned at Garak’s presence when he stuttered his “Please,” and Garak sat down across from him. Garak was pleased by this reaction. “You are new to the station, I believe?” 

“Uh, I am, yes. I only arrived last week. Though I understand you’ve been here quite a while.” 

“Ah, you know of me then!” Garak exclaimed. 

Jul looked around on the table, remembering his manners. “Would you care for some of this Tarkalean tea? It’s very good.” 

“What a thoughtful young man. How _nice_ that we’ve met.” Garak offered him a smile. The young Cardassian tried to flag down a waiter but couldn’t seem to get eye contact with anyone and so he more or less gave up awkwardly. Garak didn’t mind in the least; he wasn’t planning on staying too long. 

“I’ve heard about you around the station. You've got a shop, haven’t you?” Jul eyed his companion warily. 

Garak was pleasantly surprised. “How perceptive of you. Yes, I have an apparel shop on the Promenade. You ought to come by if you need anything — even if it’s just for some more company. Though you probably didn’t move to this station to make acquaintances with more Cardassians, did you?” 

Jul seemed to harden in his composure upon hearing Garak’s words. “It’s nothing like that. I'm here on business. Temporary business. As opposed to you — I hear you’re exiled from Cardassia. Must have been a shock when the Federation moved in, no?” 

_Oh, I've underestimated you, Jul Bakir._ “Hah, oh, yes. The _Federaji_ are pleasant, though — most of the time, at least. I think you’ll like them over time. How long are you staying again?” 

“Only a few weeks, Mr. Garak.” 

Garak smiled wider. “Please — just Garak. Plain, simple Garak.” 

Jul nodded slowly, seemingly nervous again. _He is certainly threatened by my presence._

Garak rose from the table. “Now — good day to you, Jul.” He walked slowly, deliberately away. Jul bid him goodbye with his eyes. 

But Garak wasn’t leaving without doing what he had come there to do. Upon departing, he went behind Jul’s chair and placed his left hand upon that skinny shoulder of his. Garak’s other hand went down to the other shoulder, pressing into him with confidence. Garak watched and felt Jul twitch. He wished he could have seen his face in that moment, probably agape and ready to sweat from the tension. “I’m so glad to have made such an _interesting_ new friend today.” 

And thus, Garak left without further ado. _I'll see you later, Jul — if that is your name._


	2. Chapter 2

Julian looked at his new face for the first time. _Just a few weeks of this. Won't be too difficult._ He didn’t mind the scales — he might actually have liked them more than he initially thought. They were smooth, yet bumpy to the touch when he scratched his chin. _Won't have to worry about shaving for a while._

“You like what you see? Dr. Kier is an artist. You're lucky you didn’t get Dr. Hyuska.” Kira looked at Julian up close. She pinched a scale on his brow as if she could have picked it clean off. 

“Hey! Those are sensitive, don’t forget that they’re connected to my nerves,” Julian flinched away from his superior. “But you’re right, it is masterful work. Not even a real Cardassian would be able to see that I'm human. Not unless they get into bed with me, of course.” 

Kira rolled her eyes, thinking that Julian wouldn’t notice. “That’s the idea. He's got to believe not just your acting but your outside as well. And I shouldn’t have to say this but: don’t sleep with him or you’ll blow the mission.” Kira looked through a file on her PADD. “You ready to run through your character?” 

“I’ve memorized it all. Trust me, I've got it down. If not, then I'd ask the people who genetically enhanced me for my parents’ money back.” Julian pulled a few faces in the mirror, looking at his frown, looking at his teeth. Even his tongue was blueish to go with the gray skin. 

“Fine. You’re being put on a transporter at 0800 so you can arrive at the station like any other chump that finds their way there. Seek him out as soon as you can after you’ve gotten yourself settled, and study him for a while before making contact. We need to know what he’s doing when he thinks no-one is watching him.” 

“Yes, Major.” Julian returned to professionalism for a brief moment. 

“Remember also that the Starfleet big-shot is called Benjamin Sisko. Keep an eye on him too, he can’t know who you are either.”   
“Major, no-one can know who I am aboard that station. If I met my friends from school I wouldn’t go ‘psst, you guys, it’s actually me, Julian, can you believe it’ — I know what I'm doing.” 

Kira had a look in her eyes like ‘so help me, Prophets’. “Get outta here. I don’t need to see your ugly Cardie face until tomorrow when you report back from your secure quarters.” 

Julian Bashir walked away from the recovery room with confidence. _This'll really be something, finally a more personal mission tailored to my skills._


	3. Chapter 3

Julian, — or, ‘Jul’ as he was known now, — was still sitting at that Replimat table, trying to act casual. He thought he’d had the target down, but Garak had actually managed to startle him a little. _It'll add to my character. He can be a timid, awkward, secretly exiled from Cardassia too. That's why my character is so interested in pursuing a fellow Cardassian. He’ll probably eat that up._

After shadowing Garak for a week, Julian knew now that he had to make an effort to ‘accidentally’ stumble into him soon after their first meeting. It wasn’t entirely according to plan, but Julian was a master at accommodating. 

So, he did just that; the day after, Julian spent all day wandering the station, up and down the Promenade in a fashion that didn’t seem forced, hanging out at the Replimat again for a few hours before losing hope. _This job is all about endurance. I've done much more waiting before_. Julian was frustrated but he never showed it. He started to consider just going directly to the shop, but that would be too forward. Garak was already naturally on his toes at all times, being an Obsidian agent and all; he was definitely waiting for a sneak attack from someone, even someone as innocent-looking as ‘Jul’. 

Julian realized that he hadn’t even been inside the station’s skeezy bar yet, ‘Quark’s Bar, Grill and something something’, so he went inside. It was just as grimy and greasy and stinking of latinum and tube grubs as he had expected. A constant cacophony of people screaming ‘Dabo!’ and Ferengis laughing repelled Julian, but, as he always liked to remind himself, he’d been at much, much worse places before. 

He scouted the place, and just as he suspected, in a lonesome corner there sat the figure of Garak. The ‘tailor’ was sipping on a happy-hour kanar from the looks of it, all while people-watching. But he hadn’t watched for Julian’s movements as he slipped through the pillars to approach him. 

Julian made eye-contact with him just as Garak was about to take a sip, causing him to lower his glass again. “Mr. Garak —” Julian ‘accidentally’ slipped up, and Garak was already wagging a finger at him. 

“ _Just_ Garak.” 

Julian tried a boyish smile. “Plain and simple. May I?” 

Garak allowed it. “You’re thirsty for company too, I take it?” 

Julian sat down and tried for authenticity and believability when he sighed despondently. “I just finished unpacking in what will be my quarters for the next few weeks. I needed to get out of there as soon as I had folded away my trousers. Those rooms invite loneliness.” 

Garak nodded reverently. “I know just what you mean. On this station you have to get out, go about and find people. I was lucky to spot you yesterday in the Replimat, but then again, a new face stands out in a place like this.” 

Julian just realized something. “How did you know my name already, anyway? I was rather caught off guard by that.” 

Garak looked at him as he leaned close. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Jul.” He paused. Julian took it as Garak waiting for him to lean in as well, so he played along. “I’ve got access to the manifests of all the ships docking the station. Usually it’s just for me to prepare my displays according to my customer-base, but this time — it was just one person who caught my eye.” 

Julian leaned back again with a smile. _Well, well, Garak, you’ve unlocked a door for me now. I'll charm my way to those manifests if I have to._ “How devious of you.” Julian flagged down a Ferengi waiter, successfully this time. “A kanar for me as well.” 

The Ferengi nodded with disdain and walked away. Garak chuckled briefly. “They despise us.” 

“I think it’s envy. But I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of the men who make my drinks.” 

The two had a chuckle together now. Then a pause in conversation. 

_Let's try an obvious one._ “So — do you ever miss him, Garak?” 

“Him?” 

“The fatherland. I was right yesterday, wasn’t I? You've not been home for years.” 

“Hm — I think ‘miss’ is a word that cannot encompass the feeling.” Garak almost turned wistful for a moment, but it was swept under his hard surface again. “I have him on my mind every day I'm alive still. But I make a comfortable living for myself here. And when you’ve been imprisoned, almost anything is a better standard of living.” 

_One thing you and I have in common, Garak._ “You were captured by the Bajorans too?” Of course, Julian embellished a little. Considering his allies, Bajorans weren’t the ones who wanted him behind a forcefield. It was the Federation that Julian had been in hot water with before his current gig, but that was neither here nor there. 

“I knew you’d pick up on it eventually. Didn't think it’d be so soon, though. We've only _just_ met.” Garak paused as the waiter returned with a glass for Julian. The Ferengi didn’t need to hear this. “I spent three months in a hole south-west of the capital of Maryazi. It feels like so long ago now. They thought they could get information or at least hold us hostage to trade for supplies. As the months went, hope did too, and as you know, Bajoran terrorists don’t wait around. I was one of thirty or so civilian hostages. Only four of us made it out.” 

_Now I just reel him in._ “Something similar happened to me. I was on my way home from Parcot University, walking in broad daylight, and before I know it, a throng of militia storm the city streets. We were a big group, they were looking for as much attention as possible. I think only half of us made it without injuries, but I was targeted for my expertise — I’m a medical doctor. The terrorists needed doctors to tend to their wounded. I shouldn’t have worn my lab-coat that morning. I could have spared five months of underground labor if I had just left that coat at home.” Julian took a sip as if to underline the devastation. 

There was an underscore of intimacy developing already, going according to Julian’s plan. _Shared trauma builds bridges_. The silence was thick despite the background noise being almost deafening. 

Garak and Julian had sharp eye contact until Garak picked up his glass to toast solemnly. “To survival.” 

Julian copied like the good agent that he was. “And to Cardassia.” 

Their glasses kissed with a tinkling sound before both men drained the contents. Julian found that he could get used to the taste of kanar. _Not a bad gig at all so far._

Garak resolutely put his glass down and arose. “I think we should continue our conversation at another time. I ought to get back to a commission.” 

Julian copied him again, rising too. “I ought to get back to my findings as well. Though I dread going back to that room alone.” _A little too far? Probably._

Garak raised his brow-lines just a little. “I think it’s soon time for you to take advantage of my shop — doctor.” He stepped just a little bit too close inside Julian’s personal sphere. It was horribly titillating to him: intimate, but so public. “I believe I have some assets that would interest a man of fine taste such as yourself.” 

Julian tasted the kanar still coating his tongue. He wondered if Garak’s tongue tasted the same. “I might. Good day to you, Garak.” Reluctantly, Julian walked in the opposite direction of where Garak was going to go. 

He didn’t have a destination. But he was probably going to recuperate until the time was right to ‘run into’ Garak again at his shop. After the way Garak had caressed his shoulders yesterday, and now this flirtatious parting, Julian had no doubts left about the man. And he knew now that he didn’t mind Garak’s forwardness at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

Julian had been so careful not to approach the shop this past week. But now, now he was all over it, at first staking it out after business hours to absorb details of the layout and routine and to see if the ‘tailor’ showed up for some after business ‘business’. But Garak slept each night like a good citizen, apparently. 

After doing so much seemingly pointless lurking, Julian decided to go for it. He strolled up to the shop, just before closing time one evening; he knew that they’d be alone. Garak was laying some things away near the back, but the man noticed him quickly, smiling once they locked eyes. “Doctor! You came.” 

“I hope you don’t mind me popping in right before closing, I won’t be long — I just couldn’t stop thinking about your offer.” Julian approached, cocky, ready to be the one to invade Garak’s personal sphere. He seemed to invite it, letting Julian get within a meter’s distance immediately. 

“Not a problem at all, I always enjoy a bit of _company_.” Garak folded away the last of whatever it was he was folding and turned properly to Julian. “Do you like anything you see in here? I do have some suggestions if you’re willing.” 

Julian did his best to be flirtatious, charming, a little naïve. “Oh, I don’t know — when it comes to fashion, I think I'm a bit clueless. I've never been taken by the hand by someone and shown the ropes. I'd like to hear your advice.” 

Garak’s smile was mischievous. “I’ve set my suggestions aside in the back, just in case you were coming. Follow me.” 

Julian obliged while thinking through his next moves. He had to get access to a computer, a PADD, a folder, anything that seemed to hold information, and then he’d need passwords. He’d have to keep an eye and ear out for any incriminating information that the Major could use. 

The back room was comfortable, secluded. Julian’s eyes settled on the PADD laying out in the open, and then noticed a screen in a corner. He was distracted from the job, though. The prospect of Garak wanting to take him somewhere private was _very_ distracting. 

Julian kept walking and didn’t notice that Garak had stopped before it was too late. Hands turned him and pushed him into the nearest wall with an expert speed. Julian’s heart spiked. Garak was up close in Julian’s face now, hands firmly on his shoulders. 

Julian nearly thought he would kiss him, but he wasn’t so lucky. Garak removed one hand and brandished a knife from his sleeve in less than a heartbeat’s time. 

“You make a charming Cardassian, ‘Jul’, but you can’t fool me. Now, who do you work for?” The knife was cold against Julian’s neck-ridges. Even if they weren’t real, they sure would look real if Garak cut them. 

“You’re mistaken, please, I'm a doctor, not an agent — Garak —” Julian tried to play the innocent card, probably for the last time if it didn’t work out in his favor. “I’m not trying to assassinate you — I wanted to sleep with you —” 

_Oh, stars._ Julian felt entirely put on display when Garak went closer, his body pressed to Julian’s frame. He made an undignified noise. _This isn’t the time nor place, oh, God —_

Garak stared into his eyes with a look that Julian couldn’t decide if it was murder or attraction looming in there. “I can _feel_ that. Maybe you are, as you say, trying to sleep with me — _but_ you are no Cardassian.” 

Julian tried to writhe, which was a mistake, because it meant that his cock writhed against Garak’s front. “I am. You have to trust me, Garak. Please.” 

“You really think I'm that gullible to fall for that. You really do? There is no Parcot University.” 

_Ah, fuck. Fuck it all._

“You mixed up your files, ‘doctor’. You meant to say _Partoc_ University. I knew you were a spy since you told me that pathetic sob story. Now, I thought I'd play with you for a few days more before I interrogated you, but I could see how you were rushing to get to me, so I couldn’t risk it. Although I will say —” Garak pressed even closer, grinding a whimper out of Julian, “your _eagerness_ isn’t unwelcome.” 

Although it was hard to think, Julian had to explain himself. “I’m not after your life. Only information.” He knew that Garak would cut him if he moved his hands away from the wall they were pressed against. “I’ll leave the station if you let me, tell them there was nothing I could find. Tell them to leave you alone. That you aren’t a target worth following after all. But if you’d like it — I would enjoy your _company_ until I go.” Julian still risked it when he put a hand to Garak’s thigh. He managed to snake it upwards to feel him through the fabric. 

Garak tensed up. He let the request hang in the air for a moment. Then, he removed the blade from Julian’s throat, but it wasn’t going to be put away. He instead stepped back a little and placed it at the corner of his low-cut collar. The tip snagged at the sharp corner, pulling Julian’s shirt open with a flick of Garak’s wrist. Garak examined the rip, opening it to look inside. “How far down do your scales go?” 

“Care to find out?” Julian couldn’t resist. He didn’t want to. 

The glint in Garak’s eyes that Julian had doubted earlier was definitely salacious. That knife wasn’t going to be used to draw blood tonight. With it, Garak forcibly tore Julian’s tunic to a point where it wasn’t a shirt anymore. It came off in a tug and a throw, Garak demonstrated. For the trousers, Garak mercifully put the knife away at last, resorting to gently undoing them to Julian’s relief. 

It felt good to be exposed, thrilling and mixed with the adrenaline from earlier, Julian found. He briefly stopped fondling Garak in order to take his own shoes off, the trousers coming off completely too. But he went back to undo Garak’s, opening him up so that Julian could take his exposed _sotl_ in his hand. He had the ball in his court again when coaxing and rubbing Garak’s slick _sotl_ to a point where all Julian wanted was to turn and bend. He'd lead, slipping his last piece of clothing off and turning to push against Garak. 

Garak was clearly suppressing an array of emotions, letting Julian grind against him with only muffled moans coming from him. His hands steered Julian by the hips, then reached to take him by his cock, confirming to himself that this man truly wasn’t Cardassian. 

Garak stroked him resolutely with a firm hand. “You are a terrible agent, you know that?” 

“ _Yes_ , I don’t care about it now, I only care about — _ah_ ,” Julian jerked in Garak’s hand when he felt Garak’s head about to enter him. He never finished his sentence. 

“Terrible, terrible agent —” Garak now moaned, sliding inside, “— the worst I've ever witnessed up close,” and coming to his hilt, stopping before jerking back, “I hope they punish you severely for your conduct —” 

Julian had his hands plastered to the wall again, but now it was for support. “You should do their job for them.” 

Garak didn’t take suggestions lightly. The next thing Julian felt was Garak’s hand making impact with his cheek, causing Julian to shudder and tighten around him. “Enough for you?” Garak never stopped his thrusting while this happened. 

“More.” Julian pleaded, getting what he deserved quadrupled this time. His cheek was going to be sore in the morning, making it impossible for him to sit straight, a terribly arousing thought. 

This turn of events had Julian all mixed up, his instinct to be frightened was replaced with desire, he was too hard and willing to let Garak fuck him into the wall as he was doing right then. Julian was sure that Garak could feel how his cock was leaking in his hand about now. Everything else was forgotten: survival especially. That knife wasn’t far away, Julian was reminded with the last rational thought he had for the evening. 

Garak pulled away in another unpredictable move. Julian was about to turn and complain, but he was led by his shoulder quickly, just a few steps behind them to the worktable. Julian's back hit the edge, and he hopped up without another thought. Garak spread him out and re-entered, the new angle taking Julian to a new height as he laid back and let Garak absolutely fuck him. 

His human cock was taken into his hand and stroked, and Julian wasn’t concerned with being covert anymore, he moaned continuously because he could, and he wanted to. Garak let go a little more too, letting his vocals be heard as he otherwise silently drove into Julian, holding him down on his thighs. 

It soon became too much, and Garak pulled out to eject himself over those thighs just as Julian was about to come too. In one indescribable minute, Julian was floating off that worktable, a warm, liquid feeling taking him away from reality as he came over himself, Garak watching him all the while. 

Garak was nearly full-on panting from the recent exertion. Their adrenaline was slowing down, dropping, whatever it was that caused Garak to feel light and odd and Julian’s energy to crash on that table afterwards. Garak composed himself surprisingly quickly. Julian felt a towel being thrown onto him, he accepted it to wipe away their dalliance. He raised himself up and off the table, wobbly on his feet for a moment. 

Since the tension had been lifted, now there was only silence. 

Garak was half-turned away from Julian, examining something Julian couldn’t see from there. “What are you anyway underneath those fake scales — Bajoran, I assume?” 

“Close. Guess again.” 

Garak pulled a smile. “Terran. Of course.” 

“It’s sad, really — I think I could have gotten used to them,” Julian looked down at his own bare self, “I find them quite attractive.” 

Garak _tsk_ ’ed. “I think you’re better off being in your own skin after your mission has failed.” 

Julian had no intentions of thinking about the consequences of his actions tonight. _Future-Julian can deal with that._ He pulled his trousers and everything else back on — except … 

“Can I borrow a shirt from you, considering that you’ve ruined the one I was wearing? I don’t think that grumpy Constable takes kindly to shirtless inhabitants on the Promenade.” 

“You may, but keep in mind that I did you a favor. That tunic was not doing you justice.” 

Garak went to a bundle nearby, fishing out a deep purple shirt. He held it up to Julian’s torso. “Hm. I was right, it _will_ suit you.” He laid it into Julian’s hands. 

And thus, Julian left the shop, dressed better than when he came in. And he would leave the station the next day in that same shirt. 


	5. Chapter 5

Business was slow. No ships in for the last few days, but Garak was now gearing up for a new load of customers at last; a freighter had passed by the station and would be unloading passengers onto the Promenade any moment now. He was dusting off the mannequins, straightening the garments, and letting time run away from him. 

“Hello — are you open?” 

_Ah, the first customer of the day._ “Yes, I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Garak was standing with his back to the door’s opening, still busy with a mannequin that needed fixing. 

“I was just wondering if I could get you to mend a shirt for me,” the first customer of the day spoke, “I got it from you not long ago, so I was hoping you could take a look at it.” 

Garak finished his task and turned to see who had disturbed his tidying. _Terran. But the roster didn’t list any terrans —_

The shirt the terran wore was oddly familiar. Garak’s customer service smile transformed into a genuine smile. “It’s you. Oh.” 

Julian couldn’t help but smile too. “How do you like me without the scales?” 

Garak was feeling the surprise settle in. The beauteous tone of his human skin was most surprising to Garak, he hadn’t expected it to be so deep and even. “I think I was right when I said that you’re better off in your own skin.” 

Julian chuckled with his mouth closed, self-deprecatingly. It obviously wasn’t too happy an occasion for him to be there. 

Garak read all this on his expression, but he thought he’d ask properly. “Seeing as you’re here again, I take it you made it out of your agency?” 

“I quit, simple as that. Of course, they weren’t _happy_ about it, but it’s not _that_ kind of agency. Then I stowed away on a freighter, knowing it would come by here.” Julian shrugged lightly. “Besides, I heard there were jobs opening up here on this station. I could get used to living in these quarters.” 

Garak was surprised once again. “Oh. I see.” _Maybe I'll be having a job-opening soon, conveniently._ “And — what’s this about your shirt you say?” 

“Eh, it’s not much, but I _did_ tear the sleeve a bit. And you generously lent it to me, so I thought I could at least commission you to mend it before you take it back.” 

Garak warmed up a bit. “I think we can find a solution that suits your needs. But I won’t take it back after, I think you ought to keep it. I’m merely assuming it’s the best shirt you’ve got in your wardrobe.” 

Julian smiled wider. “I think you’re right about that. Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing.” Garak was in an excellent mood. 

Julian held his hand out, oddly formal. “I’m Julian, by the way. Julian Bashir.” 

“Well, I'm still Garak. Plain and simple.” Garak took it. He was taught from a young age to never shake hands with any persons that were untrustworthy. But he was overcoming those words in that moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be it for now, but who knows ! I sometimes say that I can't think of a continuation and then I figure it out anyway later so - let's see !
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented already, I really appreciate it when people voice their opinions about my fics and it's just fun to interact with you all. If you'd like, you can comment your own ideas, thoughts, feelings, anything !

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written after I re-watched "Past Prologue" for the hundredth time and got absorbed in Sid's performance as the awkward new doctor trying to sit down at the Replimat for some tea while on break but who is interrupted by a dangerous and handsome Cardassian - and I thought, what if he was just playing at being awkward? And I haven't seen that many J. Bashir spy AU's mixed with Julian as a Cardassian AU's so I made it myself lol !
> 
> If you have a comment, please, write it ! I love to read comments and see what people think, good and bad, so just put it down there if you've got some thoughts about this fic. <3


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